


un peu, beaucoup

by batyatoon



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: 5 Things, Epilogue, Feels, Gen, Multiple Endings, Sad, Short, Why Is Everything Terrible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 05:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19457308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batyatoon/pseuds/batyatoon
Summary: Nott gave Yasha a flower. What became of it afterwards?





	un peu, beaucoup

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains spoilers through episode 69 of Critical Role Campaign #2. Please do not post anything in the comments that might be spoilery for later episodes.
> 
> * * *

The French game of _effeuiller la marguerite_ , or “plucking the daisy,” is similar to (and possibly the original version of) the English-language game “he loves me, he loves me not.” The player pulls petals off of a daisy or similar flower one at a time, while reciting a phrase with each petal. The phrase that accompanies the final petal supposedly represents the truth: whether the object of affection loves the player “ _un peu”_ (a little), “ _beaucoup”_ (a lot), “ _passionément”_ (passionately), “ _à la folie”_ (to madness), or “ _pas du tout”_ (not at all).

* * *

“... [ I will take ](https://youtu.be/Sj5wImPuG-k?t=11107) a small flower out of my hair, and hand it to Yasha, and run away as fast as I can.”

“[ Did the flower ](https://youtu.be/Sj5wImPuG-k?t=11482) remind me of anything? That Nott gave me?” “Unfortunately, no.”

_-Episode 69, “The King’s Cage”_

* * *

1.  
When she moves again, she shoves the flower into a pocket without really thinking. It stays there, forgotten.

~

2.  
When she moves again, she shoves the flower into a pocket without really thinking. Hours or days later, while on the road, she finds it again. Studies it for a few blinks before she remembers what it’s doing there. Shakes her head, wondering what the little goblin was trying to do.

She drops the flower to the roadside and it stays there, forgotten.

~

3.  
When she moves again, she shoves the flower into a pocket without really thinking. Hours or days later, while on the road, she finds it again. Studies it for a few blinks before she remembers what it’s doing there. Shakes her head, wondering what the little goblin was trying to do, and shoves it absently back into the same pocket.

Every so often over the next handful of days (weeks) (months), she’ll idly take out the crumpled flower for no reason she can name, twiddle it between her fingers, put it away again.

~

4.  
When she moves again, she shoves the flower into a pocket without really thinking. Days later -- many days later -- while on the road, she finds it again.

She can’t remember where she got this particular flower, or why she didn’t put it in her book with the others. But she only ever collects flowers for one reason, so into the book it goes, crumpled and faded as it is.

Someday, perhaps, their travels will take them near Zuala’s grave. Her strength has always come from her rage, and she has always known where her rage comes from.

~

5.  
When she moves again, she drops the flower to the stone floor without really thinking.

It stays there, forgotten.


End file.
